


Give me a week

by RedEris



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, Pegging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 20:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEris/pseuds/RedEris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annis Amell discovers something she really, really likes in the back room at Wonders of Thedas.  She thinks that with the right encouragement Alistair might really like it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“My dear Warden, do you know, I learned something I think might be of interest to you while we were at the Pearl the other day.”

Annis Amell grinned at Zevran’s tone and raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“As it happens, we have not seen all that Wonders of Thedas has to offer yet. I am told that if you ask nicely, there is a back room, in which one might find items of rare craftsmanship, some enchanted. Items designed to…enhance certain activities we are both very fond of.”

The grin broadened to almost frightening proportions. “Well what the Void are we waiting for, then? Alistair’s still sleeping last night off”—she wiggled her eyebrows—“so if we hurry maybe I can wake him with a surprise.”

Annis burst into Wonders of Thedas with the same infectious energy she carried everywhere, the energy that swept people up and then dropped them when she left, blinking and wondering how they’d ended up in places they had never previously imagined. Of course it wouldn’t work on the Tranquil proprietor, but somehow that had always just made her want to crank it up in semi-conscious defiance.

“Hello hello hello! My good man, I am told that I have missed out and I wish to remedy this lack at once! Would you be so kind as to immediately show me to your more…private…goods?”

She had been made to spend a fair amount of time as an apprentice helping the Tranquil in the Tower, by way of a reminder of where her willfulness might land her. Ultimately, they’d chosen the Harrowing instead, for the simple reason that no one could really imagine even a demon swaying Annis Amell from her set course. She had learned a good deal, though, and knew, among other things, that while Tranquil never utilized innuendo, they understood it perfectly well. The proprietor merely inclined his head and gestured for them to follow him.

He lead them to a nondescript door she had taken no special note of before, opened it, and motioned them through, folding his hands to wait on their pleasure.

“Zevran?”

“Yes, dear Warden?”

“Did that last bunch of bandits get me after all? Is this the Maker’s bosom?”

“Ah, but one day you will visit Antiva City with me, yes? And then I will show you things this dog-smelling city dreams not of.”

There were stone dildoes, ceramic dildoes, leather-sheathed and lovingly oiled ones, all shapes and sizes, a few with runes on the bases. Annis examined one with a weak electricity rune on it. “Ah, but that I can do myself.” There were plugs, from slim and innocuous to hilariously gigantic. There were strings of balls, loose metal balls, simple rings in various sizes, rings with various protuberances…one made her fingers tingle gently when she picked it up, and she set it aside for further consideration, grinning manically.

And then she saw it.

“Ohhhhhhhh Zev Zev Zev is that…I didn’t know….Ohhhhhh!”

She lifted it from the hooks on which it hung, lovingly fingering the buckles, running a hand down the straps, testing the lovingly polished surface of the wood, tracing the upward curve of the phallus. 

“Oh my. Warden, you are making me terribly envious, but are you quite sure your strapping Templar is ready for that?”

You could just about have counted every tooth in Annis’ head. 

“Give me a week.”


	2. Day One

The noises of the common room made it easy to whisper something into an ear and go unheard, and Annis took ruthless advantage. She stretched up until her breath was warming her lover’s ear.

“So tell me, Alistair. When you were training to be a templar, did the lads ever discuss the…more delightful uses of the backdoor?”

Alistair started and shot her a sideways look. “The what where? Sorry?”

She grinned wolfishly and wriggled so that her generous curves pressed against him momentarily.

“The tradesman’s entrance. The starflower. The…secret passage. You can’t tell me a dorm full of adolescent boys never contemplated the virtues of a snugger hug.”

Realization and mortification spread across his face together, and she could see the blush bloom even in the poor lighting.

“Ahh…I never…that is, it maaaaaay have come up. Which is not to say that I was…listening.”

“Oh? So you wouldn’t have any interest in giving it a try, then?”

Alistair banged his knee violently on the underside of the table, he startled so hard. Across the way, Zevran’s eyes twinkled.

Annis snaked a hand across one muscled thigh, and Alistair tensed as she found and traced the easily-perceptible bulge of him, half-hard in his trousers.

“That doesn’t feel like complete disinterest to me.”

“Oh, _that_. By the Maker, there’s my sock! Been looking for it all day. Got lost in there when I undressed last night. Load off my mind, really. I’ve only got the three pairs. Of socks.”

Annis pouted up at him.

“Ahh. What a pity. I guess that means I’m the only one wondering what your great…big…hard…dick would feel like up my ass.”

“Well, you _were_. Bit hard not to think of it now. But wouldn’t that…hurt? And…well. Be a tad unsanitary?”

“Yes, because we’ve never been unsanitary during our time together. No mud, no blood, no spider guts. We can wash up, so long as we’re here. And you won’t hurt me. I’ll show you how. If…you want.”

“You’re an awfully hard woman to cross. I’m sure I wouldn’t have the guts.”

They grinned at each other. 

“Now?” Alistair raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I think so. Now.” 

Annis stood up, but before she could gather up her robe to step over the bench, Alistair was standing and bodily lifting her up and over. He didn’t notice their elf companion smirking at them, or the wink Annis tipped Zevran as they headed upstairs.

………………………………….

Upstairs, though, Alistair felt nerves rolling back in.

“Are you sure? I mean…yes, of course there was talk. But they never…they always made it sound like…something you did to someone for…oh, I don’t know.” He searched for the words that would put their crassness in terms he was willing to use. “I love what we do because it’s sharing. What they talked about, it sounded like taking.”

“Maker, you really are too good to be true. They talked that way because they were boys pretending to be men and had no idea what they were on about.”

She smiled up at him as she spoke, her hand soothing over his stomach, her fingers on his laces both heating and frightening.

“I promise you, we will go slowly, and we’ll talk the whole time and tell each other just how we feel, and if we don’t both enjoy it then we needn’t ever do it again.”

“Have you…done this before?”

“Yes, twice. And before you ask, it hurt horribly once, and the other time—well, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was something I might get to like. Now I think I know the difference well enough to do better yet. And I trust you.” This last was almost whispered, almost shy. “I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, or I wouldn’t have asked in the first place.”

He sucked air as she pushed down his pants, wondering how she could trust such a blundering idiot as himself, when he clearly had no idea. The thought fled as she followed his pants down and nuzzled his slightly wilted cock. She licked a stripe to the tip and then warned him with a bare second’s smirk before hollowing her cheeks and sucking his entire length into her mouth. He lurched and threw a hand out, grateful to find the bedpost. Her laughter was a muffled hum against him. The sight of his cock slipping back out of her mouth as he hardened was making it difficult to breathe properly.

For a minute longer she drove him mad with lips and tongue and cheeks and throat while her hands were busy undoing her own fastenings, and then she popped off and stood back up, pressing against him.

“Always delicious, but not what we’re here for, is it?”

“It could be. I wouldn’t complain.”

“Mmmmm. Selfish. Undress me.”

Boots still tied, pants around his ankles, Alistair moved to obey, carefully tugging down her sleeves and slipping her robe over her head. He slipped loose the knot of her breast wrappings with hands less fumbling than they had been months gone, but no less reverent. They hardly ever had the space and time to enjoy each other as he would prefer—this room, this moment…no, he didn’t want to hurry it. As soon as the knot was free, the weight of her full breasts pulled on the wrappings, and he unwound them carefully. He reached for her smalls, but she danced back, smiling.

“Now undress yourself.” 

She slipped behind the screen in the corner of the room, and as he pulled off his boots and pants he heard the splash of water in the basin concealed there. Her smalls suddenly flew over the screen and landed on the floor, and he laughed.

“Tease.”

“Hardly. Impatient. I’ll bet you haven’t even got your shirt off.”

Hastily, he tugged his shirt up and over his shoulders just as she prowled back out of the corner of the room, swaying generous hips exaggeratedly. She bent and rummaged in her pack for a moment before retrieving a corked ceramic pot, and then climbed into the bed, looking over her shoulder to him. The golden-orange light of fading day flowed over her curves, and his hands raced to follow it until they were tangled together on the bed, and he kissed her like he was trying to burrow in, and all her cockiness dropped away until she was soft and needy in his arms, the way he loved. 

He untangled a hand from her hair and slipped it down between them until it brushed between her legs, and she ground into his palm eagerly. He ran a finger languidly around and between her folds a few times before slipping it into her, savoring her wetness. She bucked and pushed him deeper, gasping against his mouth. He fucked her with his finger, in and out once and then again, the little noises she made going straight to his cock, before taking his turn to pull away. She mewled in protest.

He put his finger in his mouth and sucked, grinning around it. “Always delicious, but not what we’re here for, is it?”

“Bastard.”

“Aren’t I just?” He rolled against her hip lazily. “But truthfully…what next? What’s in the pot?”

“I am told—by a reliable source—that the key ingredient to making this work is plenty of slick. In the pot is the best I could find. I must say it smells lovely.” 

Alistair cringed inwardly at the likely nature of this “reliable source”, but he was…getting used to Annis’ utter lack of shame. And he couldn’t deny a small possessive thrill at the thought of Zevran knowing that Annis was _his_. She wanted _him_. And anything Zevran could have provided her, he could, blight it.

“So you put some on your fingers, and you…ahhh…”

“Are you blushing? You are! _You_ are blushing. Praise Andraste. I never thought to see it. Mmmmmm…so.” He uncorked the pot and dipped two fingers in the salve inside. It _did_ smell good, of cinnamon and musk and something rich he didn’t recognize. “And then maaaaaybe something like this,” he purred, ghosting his hand between her legs and past her vulva. Annis shifted to raise one knee, and his fingers came to rest against puckered flesh. She jumped a little, twitching under his fingertips, and he thought he could definitely get used to seeing her flustered and undone like this.

Because of him. Because of nothing but him.

He circled his finger experimentally for a few moments, watching Annis’ face as she stared back at him, flushed and wide-eyed. He leaned in to kiss her, and as her lips opened to him he _pushed_ , and breathed in her gasp as his finger slipped in.

For a moment he explored the sensation, listening to her sharp little exhalations as he pushed deeper. But it was so very tight, it beggared the mind…

“Are you sure…”

“Damn you, don’t you dare stop.”

So he didn’t.

He slid down her body, licking his way over her nipples as he passed, and she writhed against him, moaning quietly. He ended by kneeling between her legs, watching his finger disappear into Annis’ body. He glanced up, and her head was arching back into the pillow, exposing the curve of her throat. Something sparkled wickedly in his eyes, and he twisted his hand a bit, nudging a thumb over her clitoris before unfurling a second finger so that on his next thrust his fingers slid smoothly into both entrances, thumb again pressing against the front.

“HnnnnnAH Maker!” Annis twisted her hips against his hand frantically as he slid broad, blunt fingers into and over her. The contrasts against his finger felt incredible—the silken glide of her cunt as it rippled, the slicked, demanding squeeze of her ass as it alternately clenched and drew him in. He applied his free hand to a plump brown nipple, rolling and pinching, and from the noises streaming out of her, he knew it wouldn’t take much more of this before she tumbled over the edge. She writhed against him like a wild thing, and his cock jumped and twitched against his belly at the sight.

“Ahhh…no! Yes! I mean no!” She ground down helplessly against his hand one more time before yanking herself up the bed and off of him.

“I want to do this. Dear Maker, I want you in me when I come. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

She scrabbled for the pot and thrust it out to him.

“Lots. Use lots. But for the Maker’s sake, get it _in_ me.”

Heart hammering, he smoothed what he hoped was a generous amount of the slick over himself and moved to hold himself over her with one hand, carefully lining himself up with the other. She reached down, resting her hand over her vulva and pressing fingertips against him to help guide him. They locked eyes as he pressed ever so carefully up and into her. 

As the head of his cock breached her, her eyes flew wide and she gasped.

“Pain?”, he ground out, trembling slightly with the effort of stilling his hips.

“Just…a minute. Give me a minute to relax.”

Leaning down, he kissed her thoroughly, worrying fiercely at her lower lip, until he felt the clench around him lessening. Slowly, slowly he pressed forward, still kissing her, as she gasped and panted into his mouth, until he was buried inside her ass, sheathed almost painfully tightly.

“Oh, Maker’s breath, so tight!” The tendons of his neck stood out against the strain of self-control. “Alright?”

“Absolutely mad. Overwhelmed. Andraste’s ass, fuck me. Fuck me.”

He started out slow, carefully exploring the new sensation, watching her closely. She panted fast and shallow, eyes squeezed shut, but she pressed back against him with every thrust, arching her neck against the pillow. After several careful thrusts, he shifted his weight, and his abs, clenched hard, rubbed against her clit. She gasped and threw herself down against him.

“Oh Maker, oh fuck, that again. Oh, keep doing that.”

He ground into her again and then again, encouraged by the madness of her enjoyment. He’d rarely seen her so wild—she looked utterly overwhelmed, rutting down onto his stomach and cock mindlessly.

“Void, Annis, I won’t last. I’ll never last. This…you…”

“You won’t need to. Just fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_.”

The last thread of Alistair’s control snapped and he rocked up into her hard, grinding his stomach against her mound as she wailed and pushed back.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck don’t stop.”

She continued to chant, each ‘yes’ pitching up higher and higher between clenched teeth, as he pistoned into her almost roughly, sure to give her the pressure she craved against her front, dragging his stomach upwards at the end of each thrust. He felt his climax building rapidly—Maker help him, it was so tight and overwhelming—and tried to hold it back, but the sounds of her coming unraveled beneath him pushed him over the edge and he seized, pounding into her brutally for a few thrusts before stilling, eyes haggard with passion and cheeks drawn up in a slight snarl. 

“Beautiful. Oh, fuck me, so beautiful,” Annis gasped out. He gathered himself together enough to thrust into her once, twice, three times more—he knew by the sounds it wouldn’t be long—and she cried out, thrusting her hips down roughly to impale herself on him and then grinding up into his muscles as if she hardly knew which she wanted more, keening and sobbing with pleasure as her climax dragged on and on. His arms shook as she squeezed the last drops out of his hypersensitive cock with the clenching and seizing of her ass.

At last she stilled, and he sagged over her, shifting so that his shoulder on the bed took as much of his weight as possible. Her arms curled up around his neck and opposite shoulder, and they lay together like that for minutes, unmoving save the heaving of their chests as they caught their breath.

Finally, Annis gathered herself enough to chuckle.

“Well. That I would do again.”


	3. Day Two

“Alright, there’s the chandler and the house with the teal shutters, so according to the baker’s boy, it should be just through that archway. Hurry up, I’m hungry.” Annis half-jogged forward, drawing ahead of Alistair, who was looking around reluctantly.

“I don’t quite like the look of this neighborhood. Why aren’t there any people about? I wish we’d brought another person.”

“I don’t like the look of anything in this hole. Or the smell. If all cities are like this, Zevran can keep them. Anyway, it’s a simple errand. Aren’t you enjoying some time to be just the two of us?”

“Oho! I’d enjoy it better back in the…hey!”

Annis started to turn at the sound of full plate hitting cobblestones, and leapt back, narrowly avoiding the portcullis crashing down between them. Alistair was already halfway up and roaring like an enraged bear as she spun back around to assess the situation.

A double handful of armed thugs, already in motion. She threw herself left, paralyzing the nearest three fighters and hurtling through the gap, scanning for archers as she ran. She spotted one and cast a misdirection hex as she ran, pelting for the higher ground of the scaffolding. Even over the shouts of the thugs as they raced after her shouting curses, she could hear Alistair bellowing and flinging himself against the barrier.

Halfway up the stairs, she raised her left hand, letting black mist twine through her fingers, and the hexed archer dodged right, only to meet the dagger in her right hand. She twisted savagely on the handle and jerked the man around until she could put a foot in his crotch and shove him down the stairs to meet the first of her pursuers. As both men fell, she froze them, and the archer’s arm shattered when they hit the ground. 

Before the next fighter reached the top of the stairs, she cast a draining miasma on herself and slammed back a lyrium potion. As he came level with her, she flung the vial in his face, followed with a charged slash from the dagger, hit him with a Walking Bomb, and booted him back down the stairs. One of his compatriots caught him. She flung a fireball into the cluster of thugs and was already pelting away as he detonated nastily. She jumped off the end of the scaffold, rolling as she hit the ground, and dashed for the portcullis winch, trying desperately to put distance between herself and the remaining attackers.

Sparing a moment to horrify her nearest pursuers, she heaved on the winch, and Alistair crouched to grab the bottom of the portcullis, hoping to bear part of the load. She raised the gate only a few inches before a knife-wielding rogue came within range and Alistair shouted a hoarse warning, still straining as if he intended to lift the iron gate with raw strength.

This time her opponent tagged her, leaving a burning stripe down one bicep, before she managed to paralyze him and the man just behind him. She drained his energy and felt the sting in her arm fade enough to allow her a few more cranks on the winch.

There were still five men up and moving, and she was scraping the bottom of her mana pool. She patted her pouch, cursing her cheapness as she confirmed that there were no more potions there. She dredge up another fireball, but held it in her hand, looking from one man to the next, doing her best to freeze them with her gaze, and felt for the winch handle, grasping blindly. As she caught it, she flung the fireball at the thug in the middle, spun, and wrenched the handle around as fast as she could, twice, three times, before dashing to the side, praying to whoever might be listening that it had been enough. She screamed a challenge, hoping to divert all attention from the gate. Mercifully Alistair seemed to have had the sense to stop shouting.

There wasn’t much space to run, and no way out. She lead them as close to the houses on one side as she could before veering and spinning backwards, trying to open distance with greater agility. A few more seconds, and she’d be able to prepare another spell. It would have to be enough.

“Annis!”

Thank the Maker. She sprinted for Alistair, now on this side of the gate and pounding her way. As she passed him, he let out a war cry so full of rage that it was almost a palpable blow. By the time she turned to face the enemy again, two of them were already dead. She paralyzed one of the remaining three just as Alistair launched the second back with a punishing shield bash, using the same momentum to all but behead the last man.

Chest heaving, a spray of blood bright across one cheek, Alistair turned to the last thug, whose eyes shifted frantically in his frozen face.

“Tell whoever hired you—not again. Don’t do it again. Don’t touch her.”

The man sagged as the spell wore off, stumbling in a parody of a bow before taking off, throwing himself under the portcullis, and disappearing.

Annis was watching him around the corner when Alistair seized her by the shoulder in an almost bruising grip.

“Are you hurt?” He yanked on her slashed sleeve, tearing it further to see the nearly-healed slash there. Next, he grabbed her chin, and she watched him wide-eyed as he turned her face back and forth, exposing her neck, running gauntleted fingers over her scalp. They caught and pulled at her hair but she hardly noticed.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, love. You came in time.”

The hand on her chin slipped around to the back of her head, and his other arm went around her waist, pulling her up hard into a kiss. It was desperate, insistent, almost bruising, full of the recoil from rage and fear and helplessness. When he finally let her go, they both gasped for breath.

She glanced down, momentarily distracted, to see what her fingers had found, and saw the great, rust-stained furrow across the projecting point of his breastplate. Her eyes flew to the portcullis, still raised barely more than a foot off the ground, and back to Alistair’s face, wide with shock. She traced the line where he had deformed metal with brute force, forcing his way under the gate.

“I couldn’t get at you. Oh, Maker, Annis, I couldn’t help you and I don’t think I’ve been more angry or afraid in my life.” 

He pulled her up again, and she could feel him breathing harshly against her cheek. As they melted into each other, the terror and adrenaline of battle began to transform into something different. Not entirely different—certainly nothing gentle or peaceful—but one fire flowing into another. Life, defiant in the face of death. She pushed up into him, matching force with force, pulling his lower lip into her mouth and sucking hard. He pulled away to gasp for more air, and they met again open-mouthed, several feather-light kisses in succession, sharing each other’s breath.

He mouthed across her jaw until he hovered over her ear. Voice husky and breathless, he whispered, “I…I need you. Now. I need to have you now.”

Arousal surged through her like lightning, and she could not have stopped her moan if she had tried.

“Where?”

They both glanced around, temporarily at a loss.

“Maybe…” Annis grabbed Alistair’s hand and dragged him towards a narrow opening…nothing more than a passageway ending in a small wooden gate, presumably the entrance to someone’s back garden. Someone had left a handful of wooden crates pushed up against a wall, and Annis laughed, triumphant. It was enough—in this moment, more than enough.

They kissed again, hard and frantic and graceless, as her fingers scrabbled at the buckles of his breastplate. He kept her pinned to him with his left arm, but joined her efforts to get the restrictive armor off with the other hand, hindered by their unwillingness to break apart. Finally the last strap came free, and he broke the kiss long enough to shrug out of them and set the damaged breastplate aside. 

As soon as it hit the ground his hands were on her hips, lifting her up, and she pressed herself to his sweat-soaked shirt and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He leaned down, biting hard on the curve where neck met shoulder, holding her, and she writhed against him and cried out, and never for a second wondered or cared who might be behind any of the nearby shuttered windows.

Leaning forward, he set her carefully on top of the stacked crates, so that her shoulders rested against the whitewashed wall and the rest of her sprawled under him, her legs still wrapped around him. They fumbled and tugged at her skirt, caught between them, until at last it came free and he could lift it to bare her.

“Ah! Oh…where…?” Alistair’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring at finding her naked to his sight already.

“I…mmm…I had plans. Things seem to be getting back on track, too.” She grinned wolfishly, and he growled and leaned forward, bracing a hand against the wall next to her, to bite at her lip. His other hand fumbled frantically with his laces until they came loose and he shoved his pants out of the way, freeing himself. He ran his fingers up her thigh and between her folds, groaning to find them already slick and swollen.

“Please?”

“Maker, yes.”

He couldn’t wait, wanted nothing more than to be in her, to be surrounded by her, to be part of her. His chest was tight with it, with fear and love and need. He lined himself up and thrust, spreading and filling her in one smooth, slow motion, and she keened at the sensation. Once he was buried inside her and they were pressed flush together, he stopped, chest heaving, and clung to her shoulder. She twisted her hips, circling slightly to feel him shift within her.

“I need you. I always need you. Please don’t…just please don’t die.”

“I’m here. We’re fine. I love you.” He curved forward awkwardly and she tilted her chin up so that their lips could meet again, more gently this time. She pushed against him and he rocked up into her, and for a while they moved like that, slowly grinding together without ever really pulling apart, their moans muffled by each other’s mouths. She reached under his shirt to hold his sides, marveling in the bunching and shifting of the muscles there as they moved together.

He whispered against her mouth again. “You were incredible. Maker’s breath…ahh…oh, you _are_ incredible. I’ve never just…nngh…never just watched you before.”

“I could watch you all day.” She laughed, and her breath hitched. “Harder. I want to feel you with me all day.”

Nerves fired by her words, he reached down and lifted her hips up, and she braced her hands against the rough wood under her as he began to move in earnest. Their foreheads rested together, their breath breaking on small noises and then coming back to the hard rhythm he set as he buried himself in her over and over. There was no finesse in the moment, only a desperate desire to be as close as humanly possible. Again and again he rammed himself against and past that sensitive spot inside her, and it was too much and not enough and then abruptly it was everything, everything, and her voice spiraled upwards as she writhed around the point where he transfixed her. He growled and gripped her hips even harder, pulling her onto him as he drove forward, eyes squeezed shut. In that last crystalline moment when he teetered on the edge, she thought, through the haze of her lingering climax, how incredibly beautiful he looked in this moment. And then he gasped raggedly, shuddered, and spilled into her.

“I love you,” she whispered after a moment.

“Oh, I love you. I love you,” he murmured back, clinging to her, delaying the moment when their bodies would part for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I'm not dead after all. Just...incredibly slow.

**Author's Note:**

> *wiggles eyebrows suggestively*


End file.
